


"is that all?" (18+)

by royalsunshinehotel



Category: The Resident (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, devon...love you king, the only dr to ever, you have severe PMS and he's concerned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalsunshinehotel/pseuds/royalsunshinehotel
Summary: You're not doing well after a long shift. Devon's concerned.
Relationships: Devon Pravesh/Reader, Devon/Reader
Kudos: 1





	"is that all?" (18+)

You made it through a goddamn twelve hour shift, and you had something stuck to your shoe. 

Devon Pravesh. 

Was it not enough that your toes looked like little grapes, and you were bleeding through your scrubs, but you had to deal with the annoying, handsome, and annoyingly handsome new resident? 

He was a good enough doctor, and he seemed kind, but also hard-headed. When someone seemed to be in jeopardy, he wouldn’t ever drop it until the problem is solved. Good for patients maybe, but not you. 

You threw yourself into your apartment, slamming the door. The resident was hot on your heels, and you’re going to break that boy in half. 

The sick feeling of bleeding through your clothes getting unbearable, but your hormones left you too tired to care. It was getting worse and worse every month, and you were powerless.

There was something so paralyzing about bleeding for a week and a half. You felt too exposed, crying at everything, and your nerves were hypersensitive, it’s like if someone breathed in your direction wrong, your blood would go cold.

It was getting to the point where you didn’t feel like much of a person anymore.

“Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Devon hadn’t left your place yet, you didn’t want to see his stupid face until this fucking hell-scape week was over. You have five days off and you need to take care of yourself finally. 

He’s too much, raw nerves seemed to pick up every little move he made. His dumb fucking face was like lemon juice on you, the paper cut.

“Get out!” You picked something up and threw it at a wall, right next to where Devon was standing. He needed to back the fuck off.

You can barely look at him, you’re yelling but you can’t tell about what. Your eyes flick to him, and he doesn’t look scared, just concerned.

It doesn’t help that your knees start to wobble. Oh yeah, you lost a shoe at some point from the elevator to your front door. 

Today was a joke.

“Seriously, I-“ He starts.

“Shut the fuck up!” You make your own head pound with your tone. Your voice is close to bordering on hysterical.

You’re a doctor too, you’re not an idiot. 

You’re getting dizzy. It’s not uncommon for someone with anemia to lose too much blood during their week, and it certainly wasn’t a foreign feeling. 

You would have gone to sit down and die but you had to scream at the one other person in the room who was there in your space having the nerve to speak to you and you …

Are on the ground.

Shit

“Jesus, what the hell?” Devon’s voice comes into focus suddenly, as you feel a tight grip on your arms, picking you up off the floor smoothly.

Your face was buried in his scrub top, ‘for balance’ you told yourself. 

That was a lie. 

You take a deep breath, trying to get your vision to clear, and focus on him.

He looks scared now. The gears are turning in his head trying to solve a problem. You tried to get the strength to pull back, but all you could do was stand there, staring at him while he stared at you. His face still wasn’t a welcome sight.

You need to get as far away from him as possible, it was like he was sending sparks up your arms. He never lost his grip.

“Stupid fuck, let me go.” You had no place to talk. The only place you were going was the floor, but he, once again, pushed you back onto your feet, grip on your arm tighter than before.

“I’ve got it now.”

But he reaches a hand between you legs, setting off a series of shivers that descended like a blanket.

He keeps his hand there for a moment, like he’s taking notes on your reaction, but when he pulls his hand back.

Blood.

“Is that all?” The time of the month were everything was wrong, you weren’t yourself, something in your body was fundamentally wrong. Something was wrong.

“Shove a fucking ice pick up your ass!” blood rushed to your face as you took a swing at him, vision blurry. You swung wide.

He caught your other wrist, because you’re sick, and not a boxer.

You’re squirming and wiggling getting more and more desperate, but you’re in no shape to run anywhere.

But your brain slows, like it usually does and you ask where’d you’d run.

He smells nice and out of everyone you knew in Atlanta he’s the one here with you while you have this meltdown…

No. Don’t do that to yourself.

“Get off of me!” You scream, squirming as hard as possible,” I hate your guts!”

“Why?” He rolls his eyes at your efforts, dragging you into the door of your bedroom. You’d had a party a while ago where a guest had too much to drink, Devon dragged him into your bathroom to recover.

You flashed on how jealous you were of Karl that night. And here you were, practically in the same position but it was a lot less fun.

“Things would be so much easier without you!” You spit at him, starting to cry.

“Why?!” He raises his voice, and your hair stands on end. His grip on your wrists get tighter the more you try and hit him.

“They might cut me from the program!” Your entire face felt hot and dry as tears you’d been hanging onto since the Monday finally were able to flow out, “You’re a shit doctor!”

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry.” Dev’s eyes are dark and round, like a puppy’s.

“I wish I’d never met you.” Your bawling, face wrinkled. You cover your eyes with the heel of your hands trying to make the splitting headache go away, you feel him step toward you and take a grip on you biceps.

You want to rip him in half. 

You didn’t know Devon that well, you’d seen a lot of his face, but you kept to yourself, that’s just how it was. You were more acquaintances than you were friends.

And he’s on top of you.

Your bawling, with this stupid man holding you in one place.

You thrash around against him, but he doesn’t budge, just steers you backwards, pushing you on to your bed. 

“YN.” You don’t respond, vision going blurry and your eyes burn.

“YN!”

You’re choking. You’re choking on air. You feel him start to hold you tighter. You’re going to die covered in blood and broke and not in a movie. Everything is horrible and you’re going to die.

Every single month the slightest inconvenience sent your mind hurtling into space, and now that it’s about something as serious as your goddamn career, you’re pretty sure you were going to drop dead this time.

There’s a flash of pain right across your face, bringing you right back down.

The fuck?

He fucking slapped you.

He needs to die.

The force of his slap jerked your head harshly to the side, you loudly gasp feeling that side of your face go hot.

If this wasn’t your week, you’d totally understand why he’d just hit you. You were bleeding out, probably about to cry yourself into a coma. Several health issues were rapidly approaching and he just needed to snap you out of it.

But your body was shedding uterine lining so you could have broken him in half if you had the energy. But maybe you wouldn’t have to.

He pulled back, stunned, but staring at his hand like it didn’t belong to him. He shifted his grip down to your legs.

You glared at him and he looked hurt, if only for a moment.

“I’m not talking to you, I’m mad at you.” You turned away from him, remaining tears quietly leaving your eyes as you hugged yourself.

You hear him exhale, and you forcefully ignore that he’s still got a solid grip on your calves.

Devon didn’t exist. You were going to lay here, bleed, and sleep. He’d show himself out.

The fog of fatigue had already settled over your brain, but the air in your room shifts, sending prickles all through you.

“For fucks sake.” Devon huffs bitterly, flipping you onto your back. Your eyes blink open to watch his long fingers untying your pants, and rolling them down your legs. The contact was too much, and you were choking down a moan at how nice his hands felt. Your brain was empty for a moment, for the first time in days.

“What are you doing?” You ask in a small voice, eyes wet and round staring at him.

“What does it look like?” He replies sharply, breath puffing into your skin. You were staring at the corner of your room trying to remember why you were so upset.

“Wait, for real?” You thought to yourself as he pulled you out of your jeans, cold air hitting your center, making you shudder.

This was happening?

You’d just dumped your starter boyfriend two months prior who said periods were the grossest bodily function imaginable. 

That was the end for the two of you, as you’re a doctor, and you know that’s not the case. 

Besides, Nic, one of the coolest people you know, had recommended it. You can’t accuse that woman of bad taste. 

Either way, as a single doctor, you assumed it was off the table.

Apparently it wasn’t.

“I’d like to fuck you now.” 

You blinked at him, he shifts to put to hands on your face, using his thumb to wipe the tears from under your eyes.

“It’s the least you can do. ” You stuck out your bottom lip and you see Devon’s eyes quickly flicking to it.

“Okay?” He blinks, eyeing you mindfully.

“Yeah.” You sniffed back, cheek still stinging.

The tiredness sitting in your bones was currently fighting with the fact that your beautiful co star was currently hanging just a few inches from your face. You wanted gravity to kick in and drag him down to you.

Your brain’s not working correctly, because you kept glitching as he took off your shirt. He pulled you into a kiss and it was like it didn’t take in your mind, so you had to try again, obviously. Your eyes don’t want to open past halfway, and even then, you cry a little more.

He licks a thin, warm line up your jaw, and has the audacity to laugh at you when you shake.

You want to slap him back. You want to pull his head up by his hair and bite his nose off of his face.

But he starts sucking on the skin on your shoulder, and you get distracted. He takes your chin between his teeth and tugs lightly, you’re panting. 

You gasp as you feel the new contact of Devon’s hand on the side of your neck. A faint smile finds its way onto your face as you think about how nice both of his hands would be, instead of one.

Not fair.

He gets a harsh grip on your hips, but you jump.

He backs away from you, questioning if he was seriously about to be kicked out. 

A logical part of your brain registers the fact that he backed off with no hesitation, but that’s as far as you get with that thought.

You get a grip on his blue shirt and tug like your fucking five. He blinks at you. “Take it off, please.”

He smiles at you.

Devon helps you pull off shirt, your hands are shaky. You run your fingers over his collarbone, letting out a low whine. You rested your hands on his chest for a moment.

Ugh.

Your face was getting wet again, the tears were just escaping now, huh.

You don’t whine.

Except for him, apparently you do.

“We’re going slow.” He kisses your cheek before getting down between your legs. You’re too focused on how soft his beard is before he starts in on you. He runs his warm hands on the soft skin, and you’re about to start swinging.

He takes a small lick, to gauge your reaction, but you feel him halt, like he’s short-circuited.

For a moment, the sick hormone-ridden thought floats into your brain that he realized he doesn’t like how blood tastes and he was going to leave you on your bed like this.

“Fucking hell.” You look down at him, and it felt like his brown eyes had gone black. The look on his face was one you’d only seen on animal planet.

“Never mind.” He states, voice low, buzzing against your skin. He takes a grip on your legs, and doesn’t waste any more time.

He starts sucking at you mercilessly, taking a grip on your hips, pulling you as close as he could. You can feel your blood rush away from your head, and the lightness that follows is unparalleled.

You feel him pull back for a moment, panting into you, and you let your hand card through his dark hair.

“Fucking delicious.”

You’ve got nothing to say back.

Half of his face is covered in your blood.

You have no coherent thoughts on how you were feeling at that moment.

He spitefully lets a finger outline your folds, the sudden contact rough pads of his fingers making you jolt into his grip.

It wasn’t fair, you were too exposed and sensitive for him to toy around with you. Fucker.

You take a fist and pound the mattress at the shock, moaning loudly. You can feel him smile smugly between your legs, so you grab a section of hair and pull as hard as your weakened arm could muster.

“God!” He practically shouts, giving your pussy a harsh swat, "that fucking hurt!”

But the pressure from the hit went straight to your heart. 

“Dev” You’re gasping his name, dragging it out. In your own mind, you feel like you should be pissed off at what he did, you should fight him you should kick his ass for slapping you twice in a half hour, but yet you’re a happy mess. 

“Devon, I-“ He looks up at you, eyes dark and hungry. You don’t get the chance to finish your sentence. He hooks two fingers inside of you, letting you adjust before he alternates with his mouth. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, keeping a tight grip. 

It’s not long before it gets to be too much. You weren’t sure which part sets you off, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

You bite your forearm to keep you grounded through the fall, but you can feel him humming into you, using his hot mouth and warm hands to prolong your high.

“Perfect.” You can’t even look down at him, but from what you could tell, he seems determined to suck you dry, getting every last drop he’d earned from you.

Your heart is rushing in your ears, and you cross your arms over your chest until your breathing evens out.

He’s going to fuck you now, right?

Right?

“More?” You blink up at him, trying to get your vision to focus. Between the orgasm and your blood loss, you didn’t feel alive at the moment, but you didn’t mind.

You send your eyes up at him, your blood on his face, he’s stunning.

You fumble for a moment, trying to get your fucking shirt off, but he’s there, pulling you up and helping you.

“More.” He replies smoothly, in a low tone. He takes a deep breath into your bare shoulder before he pulls back, just looking at you. 

You reach your hand up and trace his bloody jaw, and for a moment, it feels as if you were in the right place, like you could actually afford your apartment, like you were actually supposed to be a doctor. Things were as they were supposed to be.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds small, but you feel cramps coming on. The cramps you’d been experiencing the past week had been the worst you’d ever gotten, and that bar was already high. It felt as if they’d coming in waves, starting from your stomach and ending on the crown of your head in life-ending migraines.

He pushes up into you slowly, gasping sharply as you dig your sharp nails into his back. The stretch is beyond welcome. The pressure he put on you feels like it’s dissolving the tension forming in your muscles.

With the impact of each thrust, it felt like the fog that had been set on you over this past week was being lifted, he’d pause occasionally to kiss the side of you neck, or check in with you. 

During a pause, he runs his hands over your stomach, making you lean into his touch.

In his mind, he wants to do so much more to you, with you, but he can’t. 

Not yet. He’s gotta keep it together a little while longer.

He takes a grip on your leg, raising it slowly up, off to the side. You’re too physically sensitive to be thrown around. 

His thrusts get quicker, harsher, but not overwhelming. He’s got your hands clasped in his, right by your head.

Your skin starts to buzz, you arch your back as you clench down on him.

He follows right after.

You both breathe for a moment, seemingly together.

You reach up and push his now- ruffled hair out of his face.

“Stunning.” He kisses your shoulder again before lowering himself away from you.

He looks pretty covered in your blood. You’re wet already just looking at him.

“Wait right there.” Where were you going to go? 

You close your eyes for a moment before you shift over to see him in your bathroom. He’s staring at himself in the mirror with a small smile, still covered in your blood, but he bends over to your tiny sink and rinses his beard off, taking a hit of your mouthwash.

He disappears from your sight for a moment, before turning on the bathtub faucet with a squeak. He comes back quickly, picking you up like a bride, and walking you into the bathtub.

He lays you in slowly, letting you adjust to the water. He turns the lights down and He lays right behind you.

You’re somewhere in between tired and wired, so you compensate, breathing for a moment, stretching your muscles, wiggling your toes at the end of the bath. He’s got an arm around you, and he does the same.

At some point, he’s reached around cleaning in between your legs. You see red fingerprints on the outside of your legs, and in spite of yourself, you blush.

There’s a pause where you sink further into the warm water, “I didn’t mean what I said. You’re a great doctor.” He exhales through his nose, you can feel him smiling.

“I know.” You pinched him and he laughs softly, “I’m sorry about the program.”

“I am too.”

“I have a feeling it’s gonna work out, but even if it doesn’t, you’re pretty great. You’re good at what you do and I can help you transfer,” you feel him stutter slightly, “If you want.” 

“You’re important to me, even if we don’t talk.” 

“I like feeling important.”

“You are important,” You lean your face away, so he can’t see how big your smile is, “it’s all gonna work out.”

There’s a pause when the sleepy haze settles again, you feel him absentmindedly humming into your damp shoulder. 

“You should stay over at mine tonight.” Your breath hitches for a moment. After your breakdown, he still wanted to spend time with you.

“I’d like that. I’m going to see a someone tomorrow, I can’t do this again.” Devon presses his face further into your shoulder.

“I’ll drive you.” A flash of heat hits your chest.

“Thanks for this.” You say softly, staring at the steam float up from the water.

“Of course.”


End file.
